


Terms and Endearments

by hooksandheroics



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Also fluff, Drabble, F/M, Fluff, Kitchen Fluff, One-Shot, basically just kitchen antics, did i say fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-08
Updated: 2014-10-08
Packaged: 2018-02-20 09:06:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 985
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2423093
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hooksandheroics/pseuds/hooksandheroics
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It has just really been too long since he's heard someone not call him by the names he's been branded with, and it should not be a big deal - except when it is.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Terms and Endearments

It’s three in the afternoon, she has the day off, and they’re trying to figure out a book that she calls ‘cook’.

(“For the last time, Killian, it’s a _cookbook_.”)

He’s not new to the mechanics of cooking – more than three centuries at sea makes a man expert with pans and spatulas. It’s more of a necessity than showcasing, but he knows about it.

The book of cook is fairly easy to read – there are illustrations of the finished product beside the list of instructions, which all look suspiciously accurate. (“It’s a photo, it’s… kind of the real thing, only on paper – it’s hard to explain.”). The thing is, as much as it is easy to read, it is as hard to understand.

He can tell, though, by the pinch on her brows that she’s also in the same predicament as he is.

He’s working on mincing the onions on the chopping board when she saunters past him, bending on the waist to look for something in the cupboards below the sink. He does not even register the pain (not when he’s so focused on… other things), so when he looks back to what he’s doing, he hisses in surprise when he sees blood on his finger and on some of the onions. He must have been gripping too close to the blade than he had previously imagined. He drops the knife and examines his digit.

She turns to him, concern in her eyes, and straightens her stance. “Are you okay?”

He nods, a small nick on his index finger is barely an injury to fuss over, but she’s moving towards him, taking his hand in hers. It makes his heart jump in his chest because this is his Swan, his Swan who has mile-high walls, his Swan who is not fazed by monsters, and dragons, and witches, his Swan who never lets anyone touch her – and she’s touching him, making sure he’s alright. (He should not be surprised anymore, not like this, not with the newfound domesticity they have indulged themselves into these past couple of weeks.)

“We got to get that cleaned and band-aided,” she murmurs, mostly to herself. “Stay here, I’ll get the kit.”

And then she’s gone, leaving him to his thoughts about what ‘band-aided’ is exactly. When she returns, she has that small white case that she had insisted on keeping in the bathroom. She fishes out a thin packet and a bottle of… alcohol. _Shit._

The panic must have shown on his face because she is smirking as she walks towards him, placing the kit on the kitchen island next to the open cookbook. “Relax, honey. You’re a big pirate, it’s just a little boo boo.”

He furrows his brows at the unfamiliar term, but his heart tugs more at the little name of endearment that she’s let slip. Judging from her focused attention on his small cut, she must not have noticed the way her lips curled around the word, the way it caressed his ears, but he did. The way silence falls around them grips at his chest and squeezes, painful but sweet.

Around this household, around her family, he’s mostly just _Killian_ , sometimes _pirate_ , and very rarely _Hook_. And he does not complain, never has to, because those three names are him from a lifetime ago. But when she lets a little thing like that escape her lips in an unguarded manner it… makes him feel more than his worth.

Of course, being the perceptive woman that she is, she notices the shift in the atmosphere. She pauses on her dabbing his finger with alcohol and looks up at him, and she’s so close, and somehow the proximity and her ability to read him hasn’t bothered him until this very moment. “What are you thinking about?” she asks quietly, and her voice is full of understanding, full of acceptance, he does not know what to do.

All his life (and when he says life, he means the moment he met her, because that’s when his existence became something more akin to life, albeit only fractional), he gives and he doesn’t want anything in return. He has given her his change, given her his sacrifice, his life if she wanted to, if she needed it. He is _so_ used to giving, he does not know how to accept.

“You called me _honey_ ,” he says, and the smile on his face is not the cocky smirk he’s used to giving, but it’s something else, and he feels his heart thaw a little, feels the dust brush off a little.

She tilts her head to her chest with a quiet little smile on her lips – he wants to kiss her, wants to see her smile like that more often – and finishes her work on his finger. “What about it?” she asks coyly, bordering on playful.

“You never call me that,” he replies.

She drops his hand and winds her arms around his neck, tugging him closer to her, and their movements are so fluid it would seem like they have been dancing this dance for centuries, and that display of chemistry is not lost on him.

“So what if I start now?” she murmurs against his neck, her smile branding on his skin like the heat of the summer sun.

His left arm snakes around her waist, pulling her against him. His _band-aided_ finger traces the line of her jaw, making her look at him with her wide, sea-green eyes. He lowers his head, meets her lips, and she sighs against his mouth. The kiss is soft, gentle, chaste, and it says everything they aren’t saying – couldn’t say. And this dynamic between them, the silence that speaks, it has always been one of the most wonderful things about this.

 _I don’t mind_ , he says as a kiss on her cheek.

 _Good_ , she replies as a smile on her lips.

**Author's Note:**

> Enjoy, leave a comment, or a kudos if you see fit. :)


End file.
